Nerima Problem
by Moon Faery
Summary: OZ has a blind spot, and Colonel Une isn't too happy about it. Anything at all could be hiding from them there, even the Gundam Pilots. Whatever will OZ do about it's problems with the Nerima district of Tokyo?


04-14-02  
  
The Nerima Problem 1/1  
Series: Gundam Wing/Ranma 1/2  
Genre: Humor  
Rated: G  
Pairings: 1+2, 3+4  
Spoilers: Unknown/None  
Warnings: Unlikely events occurring, humor, Out of Timeline  
By Moon Faery  
  
Disclaimer: A statement created solely to save one's @$$ from becoming lawn for the proverbial legal mower. I do not own Ranma 1/2 or Gundam Wing. However, this story line and plot are MINE. (Holds fic close to her.) Grrrr....  
  
Author's Notes: Slightly weird fic coming up!  
  
***  
  
"Sir, you ordered me to report to you?" The soldier saluted sharply, eyes staring straight ahead.  
  
"Ah, yes, Private Schmitz. At ease." Colonel Une looked up from the papers she had been shuffling. The buzzing fluorescent light caught her glasses, making them gleam maniacally. She wore a deep blue sundress, with a high hemline and a low collar. "Please, have a seat." One graceful hand waved at the comfortable office chairs that sat directly across from her own. The soldier sat on the edge of one of the chairs, his back ramrod straight.  
  
"Do you know why I called you in here?" Une asked conversationally, bridging her hands in front of her. A slight predatory smile tugged at her lips, which had been painted deep crimson. Schmitz fought off the urge to squirm in his seat.  
  
"No, Colonel, I do not."  
  
This time Une did smile, teeth shining whitely against their blood-colored background. "Good. If you don't, no one else does either." With a quick flick of her wrist, the slender woman twirled her chair around and stood, all in one smooth and graceful movement. She stalked to the closed blinds of the window, staring at them blankly for a moment. When she turned back around, she had slid her glasses down, and was staring at him over thier wire rims. "I assume that you do, indeed, wish to know why I wanted you?"  
  
Schmitz swallowed the lump in his throat that had appeared when she looked at him that way. There was an unfettered hunger in her eyes that brought *up* several issues that he desperately wanted to work out with the Colonel. However, the reasonable part of his brain told him that this was one of the most dangerous women in the Earth Sphere, and that jumping to conclusions would likely end in his painful and untimely demise. His pituitary gland was busily telling that part to shut up. Torn between the many answers available, he simply nodded and hoped that it wouldn't get him killed.  
  
"Aa, good. I called you here because you are exactly what I need. You have met or surpassed every criteria, standard or requirement, and that is not something that is easily found in any day or age." The brown gaze she directed at him was openly admiring. Schmitz found himself wanting to melt. But there was something he had to know, first.  
  
"Colonel, permission to ask a question?"  
  
"Granted."  
  
"What criteria is it that I met?"  
  
Une pursed her lips. "A reasonable question, I suppose. And one that I see no reason not to answer." She leaned back against the window frame, crossing her legs at the ankles. This action moved her skirt several inches up her thigh, and in turn made breathing become much more difficult for Private Schmitz. "You are a martial artist of high degree, in excellent physical condition and have an above-average intelligence. More specifically- and harder to find- you are of Japanese descent and speak that language fluently. The reports on your performance are blemish free, your loyalty is unquestionable and, finally, your infiltration and intelligence gathering skills are unsurpassed by any of your colleagues of equal or lesser rank." She leaned forward, showing off a small, but perfectly shaped, cleavage. "And that, Private Schmitz, is why I need you," she murmured lowly, eyes hooded.  
  
"Need me?" he squeaked, sweating lightly.  
  
"Yes," Une answered. "You're the only one that can do this for me." She smiled again, licking her lips. "You're very lucky you know."  
  
"I am?" Schmitz's eyes could get any rounder.  
  
"Yes, I usually let older, more experienced men handle things of this magnitude." Her glinted with mischief over the glasses. "After all, it's not everyday a Private has an opportunity to go after the Gundam pilots."  
  
Schmitz felt like a brick had hit him right between the eyes. "Gundam pilots?!"  
  
***  
  
"Well, Lady," Treize began over the vidphone. "You sent yet another agent off to deal with that problem of yours?" He grinned lazily, but there was steel in his cornflower blue eyes.  
  
"Yes, Mister Trieze," Une answered dutifully. "Schmitz shows promise; he may succeed where the other failed."  
  
"Lady, I have never doubted your judgement before, but are you certain that the pilots are there?"  
  
"Yes, sir, I am." Une nodded, glancing down at her notepad. "We've lost seven of our best agents on this assignment, all before they even sent their first weekly reports in."  
  
"There have been no sightings of Gundams in the area," the aristocratic man began, but he was cut off by the unusually vocal Une.  
  
"But there have been many strange occurrences, and we can't ignore the loss of so many agents," she reminded him, scowling a little at the screen. "Schmitz has orders to catalogue the events of the area and to send me a report daily. I fully expect him to do this at least once before going MIA. Just one of those reports will tell me exactly what OZ must face in that sector." Her eyes gleamed expectantly. Nothing thrilled Une more than a challenge, and the Gundam pilots were certainly that.  
  
A grumble from her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten since long before speaking with Schmitz.  
  
Trieze sighed. "As you will, Lady. Send me a copy of your findings."  
  
"I will, Mister Trieze. Nerima won't be a blind spot to you for much longer."  
  
***  
  
Schmitz scowled wrathfully at the passers by, keeping a mental catelogue of the oddities and strange behavior he saw. He had only been in the area for an hour, and the numbers were already soaring beyond expectations, in places he hadn't even thought would exist. And there was no sign of the pilots, either.  
  
"PERVERT!"  
  
"GIVE ME BACK MY PANTIES!"  
  
"Heehee! Whatta haul, whatta haul!"  
  
A huge crowd of angry women stormed by, chasing what appeared to be a large garden gnome with a sack of underwear. Schmitz added another tic to his 'perverts' and 'riots' lists.  
  
***  
  
"Hey, Hee-chan?" Duo asked, shouldering his backpack aside for the mob. "Doesn't that guy look a little... overwhelmed?" he nodded to a Japanese man that sat on a nearby bus bench. He was wearing a white gi, and had the dazed 'new guy' look in his eyes that one never saw in Nerima. Anyone new enough to be shocked usually ran long before their eyes glazed over. Unless, of course, they didn't have a choice.  
  
"Hn." Heero nodded, adjusting the skirt of his uniform and straightening his hair ribbon. Sometimes, he hated having to blend in with the general populace, which included pretending to be normal. Especially when 'normal' in the area included cross-dressing. The extreme violence of the district suited him well, however, so he didn't complain too loudly. "OZ informant," the Wing pilot confirmed, noticing that the man was also the only Japanese-looking person in sight.  
  
"Should we do something about him?" Quatre asked, intently watching the air for incoming people. He was dressed in a boys uniform, but had dyed his hair dark teal. Trowa's arm around his shoulders squeezed in a tiny hug. Quatre took the opportunity to snuggle into the other boy. He had definitely developed a liking for Nerima, since discovering the Nerimian air of general acceptance of just about anything.  
  
"Let Nerima work it's own brand of justice," Wufei declared, shifting his spectacles higher up on his nose. He had opted for the 'nerdy martial artist' cover, after Duo had taken the 'relatively normal', option and added 'except for dating a cross-dresser' to it.  
  
Trowa nodded silently, secretly glad that he had not been forced to make up a cover story. After all, clowns and other odd occupations appeared frequently in Nerima. Even better, he didn't have to do anything to his hair.  
  
"INCOMING!" Quatre screamed suddenly, ducking. Out of habit, everyone else hit the dirt with him. Something whistled by, landing with a loud crash. Beneath the pavement, a water main began to rumble ominously.  
  
"Ramna, you PERVERT!" a girl screamed.  
  
"I didn't do nothin'!" the human projectile argued, pulling himself out the crater he had inadvertently created. "I was just sav-" he was cut off as the main erupted, showering everyone one the vicinity with freezing cold water, and instantly turning Ranma into a redheaded girl. She scowled, but continued her sentence. "Savin' you from Ryouga, you uncute tomboy!"  
  
"Do you SEE Ryouga anywhere?" the blue-haired girl growled, aura flaring up. At her feet, a tiny black piglet bristled and snarled.  
  
"Run?" Duo asked, looking at his partners.  
  
"I would say so," Wufei answered, following his own advice.  
  
Behind them, the poor OZ agent was soon fried to a crisp.  
  
Nerima was turing out to be the ultimate safehouse.  
  
***  
  
Une's eyes bulged out of her head as she read the statistics that Schmitz had sent her. There was no way that the numbers were accurate, but it was the only way she could account for the multiple life threatening injuries the Private had sustained. And if there was no way that Schmitz could have witnessed everything in the sector at once, so she was looking at a mere fraction of the actual numbers. It boggled her mind. With a trembling hand, she dialed Mister Trieze.  
  
"Yes, Lady Une?" Trieze answered personally.  
  
"Sir, I have that report you asked for," Une answered.  
  
The General frowned, concern flickering over his chiseled features. "Lady, you look sick. Are you alright?"  
  
She took a deep breath. "Yes, sir, I'm fine. I called to report that the Nerima project has to be canceled."  
  
"Aa." He looked smug. "So, the pilots are not in the area."  
  
She would have shaken her head, but she had the feeling that it wasn't a good idea. She still felt queasy from meeting with Schmitz. Somehow, Une knew that she would never eat a shredded beef sandwich again; especially not charred to a crisp as she used to like them. "We found no indication that they are or aren't."  
  
"Inconclusive?"  
  
"Yes, sir. In the three hours Private Schmitz spent in the area, he personally witnessed 72 cross-dressers; 103 people in various disguises; 229 fights of differing degrees; 31 spontaneous species or sex changes; 157 explosions of extreme severity; 595 explosions of minor severity; 17 panty raids; 1248 perverts; over 7000 perverted acts- not including the panty raids- and 23 mass riots. It was conclu-"  
  
"Just a moment, Lady Une," Treize cut her off. "Are you positive that those numbers are correct?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"With that much pure chaos concentrated in one area, why are you ending surveillance of Nerima?" Disbelief colored his tone. "It would be a simple thing for people as skilled as the Gundam pilots to hide in such a place."  
  
"Sir, it was deemed too dangerous and costly. The hospital bill for Schmitz alone totals in the hundred thousands."  
  
"I see."  
  
"It was also concluded that, in spite of the massive training and skills possessed by the pilots, if they have hidden in Nerima, they are most likely dead by now."  
  
"What if they are in Nerima, but not dead?" Treize asked curiously.  
  
"Then there is literally less than a one in one million chance of our defeating them."  
  
"I see."  
  
"I'm sending you copies of my reports as we speak sir. I am sure you will come to the same conclusions that I have." She couldn't keep the smirk from her voice.  
  
"Thank you, Lady. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to think on this."  
  
"Of course, sir. Une out."  
  
***OWARI*** 


End file.
